


red wolf, red wolf, have you any teeth?

by CaptainMoose



Category: Original Work
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, Kiss Kiss Fall in Love, and the wolf is a pretty mystery woman in the woods, except they're lesbians, fairytale, uhh its red riding hood, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27387889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainMoose/pseuds/CaptainMoose
Summary: my re-telling of red riding hood. (ducks are involved)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	red wolf, red wolf, have you any teeth?

i.

The girl wears a red hood and the wolf has red teeth. This is how the story goes.

The girl cracks twigs under her worn-down shoes, oblivious and content in being so. Chirping birds flock around her, and she smiles and reaches out a finger for them to perch on.  _ “What a lovely song _ ,” she coos. 

_ Be cautious,  _ they try to warn her, their scattered voices high from fear.  _ There are dangers here. A Danger. You must be careful. You cannot keep making so much noise. You must watch out. _

She smiles at their pleas, nonsensical song to her ears. _ “What a lovely song,”  _ she repeats.

She continues along her way. That is, not any way at all. She has no reason to be here. The birds worry for her, for her safety and for her mind.  _ There are dangers here _ , they whisper to each other under the cover of the foliage.  _ She should not be here at all, so why come here for no reason?  _ They never find an answer, so they continue following her along her way, chittering fretful warnings in her ears. She remains content.

The wolf hears the twigs snapping and becomes curious. Her cohabitants know better than that by now. A newcomer, then. Fresh blood.

The girl stops at the lake, simply observing for a long stretch of time before deciding to settle at the water’s edge and watch the fish swim to her under the water’s steady movements. The ducks, too, flock to her, but leave with disappointed quacks when they see she has no food. She regrets not bringing any treats. 

Twigs snap behind her, and despite the birds’ frantic chattering from the safety of the branches far above, the girl turns. 

The wolf doesn’t stand straight or hold her head high. The lowered stance doesn’t show confidence, no, but something more important- a cat who’s got the mouse in her sights. Her hair is a tangled mess that flares out from her angular face like a lion’s mane. Paired with the heavy dark furs draped over her shoulders, it’s clear to the girl that she wants to look much bigger than she is. Looking past the purposeful sharpness, she can’t be any older than herself. 

Her eyes, however, are locked in an unblinking stare with the girl, reflecting the water’s steady movements back at her. Her teeth are bared in a mockery of a grin. There is something unsettling that the girl can’t attribute to intimidation attempts. Something dangerous. And yet.

The wolf is sharp-eyed and sharp-toothed, but the girl senses more caution than cruelty. So she gives her a warm smile and gestures to the grass besides her.  _ “Would you like to watch the fish, too?” _

The wolf’s face doesn’t move, but her body seems to twitch, once, before stilling. She silently sits down next to the girl. The wolf is more cautious than cruel and the girl is less oblivious but still content in being so, and they sit in silence together and watch the fish.

Finally, the wolf speaks. Her voice is rough with disuse. The girl makes note of how her words blur together at times, the low noises rolling over one another as if rushed, but the wolf herself takes her time to say them.  _ “Why are you here, girl?” _

The girl has heard it before. But the wolf does not sound confused or worried or judging. She sounds curious. So the girl bothers to answer, this time.  _ “I have nowhere else to be. And these woods are so lovely, don’t you think?” _

_ “No.”  _ Now the words come out with a tinge of anger, though the girl can’t imagine why.  _ “These woods have dangers. You should not be here.” _

_ “I have nowhere else to be.” _

_ “That doesn’t mean you need to come here to waste your life away. You are not part of these woods. You are a stranger. Leave.” _

_ “I have nowhere else to be with such kind birds and such pretty fish and such lovely wolves,”  _ the girl elaborates, her gaze steady.

_ “Wolves bite,”  _ comes the snarling response, catching like thorns and splinters on the still air that had settled between them.  _ “I am no exception.” _

_ “Then why haven’t you bitten me?” _

A beat. Then two. 

_ “Go on, then, big bad wolf. What are those teeth for?” _

The wolf leaves in a cloud of kicked-up dirt and sand. The girl remains with the fish and an empty stomach until the sun sets, leaving in a much more calm manner.

The girl continues coming. Every single day, the wolf tracks the snapping twigs and chirping birds, tracks the small figure walking the untrodden path without a care. She really is so small, the wolf thinks. Could be snatched up by a hawk. Or a very determined rabbit. So fragile. If she fell in the lake, she’d probably float right up to the top. 

The wolf runs her tongue over her teeth and smiles. The stretch of the muscles is strained.

The girl sits at the lake again, this time with offerings of corn for the ducks and sweets for her hungry stomach. This time, when she hears the twigs snap behind her, she simply moves her basket so the space next to her is open. She’s never heard another creature in this forest make noise in all the time she’s been here.

_ “I brought a treat for you, too,”  _ the girl says happily as she pulls something out of her basket and offers it to her companion. 

The wolf’s body twitches again, her movements calculated and slow as she accepts the homemade cookie with much more hesitance than the girl thinks is fair for a homemade cookie. It’s not as if the wolf knows she’s not good at baking. The very soft “ _ thank you” _ also comes after great consideration.

As they sit together eating their treats, the girl picks handfuls of corn kernels to toss to the ducks and thinks. The wolf looks so cautious whenever the girl offers her kindness. The girl wonders, sadly, if she’s the first one to offer kindness at all. 

If so, and she has a very strong feeling it is so, she decides she will be the kindest she’s ever been. 

The wolf has already devoured nearly a whole batch of cookies in the time it’s taken the girl to finish one. The girl can’t help but laugh, and the wolf’s eyes flicker up to her immediately, glowing with the same danger they had the last time they met. 

The girl feels that sadness spark under her ribs again; how sad for someone to not know kind laughter.  _ “You’re awfully hungry,”  _ she says instead, keeping the smile on her lips. “ _ It’s only midday.” _

The wolf seems to settle slightly, but now her eyes glint with something new. It looks like fool’s gold, less real than the reflection of the glowing sun. To the girl, at least.  _ “I’m always hungry.” _

_ “Always?”  _ The girl raises her eyebrows.  _ “What an awful way to live.” _

The wolf mimics a grin at her again, but the girl still doesn’t feel scared. She refuses. And she can tell, now, that the wolf seems unsettled by this, thrown off balance. The grin is still in place, and her words are still rough, but her eyes waver like the water beside them.  _ “I manage. I eat, and eat, and eat, everything I can. Everything I can sink my teeth into.” _

It’s a thinly veiled threat, the girl thinks. She’s not stupid. She knows why wolves have such sharp eyes and sharp teeth. She finds she does not care.  _ “Is that why you ate so many of those horrible cookies? And here I was, thinking I’d finally made something edible.” _

The wolf’s body twitches again, twice now, and this time her face twitches too, showing her awe for a split moment before she remembers herself. A few moments pass before her voice comes back to her, a hushed growl.  _ “Your cookies were not bad.” _

_ “Really?”  _ The girl asks in surprise.  _ “Did you really like them?” _

The wolf’s eyes still waver between assertive and withdrawn. Still, she answers “ _ yes” _ with certainty in her voice.  _ “Yes, they were good.” _

The girl lights up, grinning.  _ “I think you have very low standards,”  _ she says laughingly, almost teasingly.  _ “I’ll bring three batches next time, then. Since I need practice and you’re always hungry. Wouldn’t want you to starve.” _

The wolf follows, in pursuit. The girl is so small, so fragile, so easily eaten up by anything in this forest. So easy. Fresh blood.

But she smiles at the wolf, not a wolf’s grin but a warm smile, and when she laughs it is not ridiculing, it is...amicable. Companionable.

She brings her cookies. Three batches of them. And corn for the ducks. 

The wolf bites down harshly on her tongue until it draws blood. 

She follows, and she watches. For what, she is not sure.

They spend many mornings and afternoons sitting at the lakeside, time that is usually spent in placid silence. The girl never forgets to bring food. The wolf can’t help but notice that there are many days that she eats nothing herself, bringing all that food she spent time preparing just to hand it out to others. 

Sometimes, the girl draws in the sand to amuse herself. She leaves the drawings there overnight, and then comes back the next day to see what’s happened to them. The wolf notices she seems delighted no matter what’s happened. If the water’s washed it all away, she smiles. If the ducks have tracked their webbed footprints all over it, she laughs. If it’s exactly the same, she grins and kicks it all away herself so she can make new drawings.

It’s strange, the wolf thinks. She’s such a strange girl.

Sometimes, the girl draws detailed studies of the forest that surrounds them- the new ducklings that just hatched, the colorful flower she brought with her to show to the wolf. 

Often, though, the girl draws herself (a stick figure with a hood on) and the wolf (a stick figure with spikes protruding from her head that she guesses is supposed to be her hair). They’re always holding hands and she always draws both of them with big smiles even though the wolf has never smiled in front of her. Or at all. They’re the drawings of small children, really, and the girl should have grown out of that by now.

Nevertheless, the wolf feels strange when these drawings get messed up or erased. She can’t figure out why.

The birds don’t follow the girl around anymore, don’t bother with their warnings and pleas. She clearly hasn’t been listening to them anyways. Instead, they stay huddled up in the safety of the treetops, whispering to each other.  _ She’s befriended the wolf,  _ one says.  _ It’s not possible,  _ another scolds,  _ to befriend the Danger. The poor girl is being led like a lamb to the slaughter.  _

_ “Why ‘wolf’?”  _ The girl asks one day. She’s not even looking at the wolf then, having taken off her shoes and socks to kick her feet around in the water. She seems to have become fascinated by the ripples she makes as she moves. 

_ “Why not?”  _ It’s a weak retort, she knows, but the girl never seems to care anyhow. 

_ “Who started calling you that in the first place? Was it because of the eyes or the teeth? Or were you already wearing your furs back then?”  _ The girl pauses for breath, and then-  _ “Oh! Did you start wearing furs  _ because  _ of the nickname? Or-” _

_ “It’s not a nickname.”  _ The wolf interrupts.  _ “It’s my name.” _

The girl still doesn’t look over, but her brow furrows.  _ “Your parents named you ‘the wolf’?” _

_ “Yes, my parents named me ‘the wolf’,”  _ the wolf snorts.  _ “Just because it isn’t my birth name doesn’t mean it’s not my name.” _

The girl’s feet go still, and the wolf inexplicably fears that she’s upset her somehow. Silence stretches between them, and that fear grows despite the wolf’s efforts to squash it. Finally, a response, barely a whisper:  _ “You gave the name to yourself?” _

_ “Yes.”  _ The wolf doesn’t bother to hide her annoyance. She has no idea what point the girl is trying to make.  _ “Is that a problem?” _

More hesitance. The wolf wants to scream.  _ “Not..a problem with you, no,”  _ the girl says slowly, carefully. Moments pass where she seems to be considering something and the wolf is trying to decipher what that reply was supposed to mean. And then:  _ “why are you so determined to be feared?” _

The wolf has since learned to stop twitching in surprise, but she feels surprised nonetheless.  _ “And what-”  _ She stops, sucks in a deep breath between her teeth.  _ “What is that supposed to mean?” _

_ “The wild hair, the furs, your stance, your eyes, your grin, your voice, your own name,”  _ the girl rambles off,  _ “it’s all meant to make you look scary. It’s meant to make you look bigger and meaner and stronger. It’s meant to make everyone else scared of you.”  _ She hesitates again.  _ “You did it to me when we met. You looked at me like prey because you wanted- you needed me to know that’s what I was to you. You needed me scared. And when I wasn’t, you didn’t know how to deal with it.” _

The wolf can feel that strange feeling again, but tenfold, to the point that it feels like a physical wound. She thinks she’s angry, or maybe panicking. All she knows is her heart is beating too fast. Her teeth hurt. The silence between them now is not placid or still. It is rolling with tremulous, messy emotions the wolf cannot recognize.  _ “You aren’t scared of me,”  _ she finally manages.  _ “I didn’t scare you off, so what does it matter? It doesn’t matter.” _

_ “Yes, it does.”  _ The girl’s tone is harsh. Angry.  _ “Because you still tried to. Because every other creature in this forest doesn’t make any noise out of some unspoken fear for the big bad wolf. Because even the ducks and fish won’t flock to you for food.” _

_ “How is it any of your business?”  _ The wolf bites out. She wishes her furs were attached to her so they could rise up in anger accordingly. Anger she can handle, anger she’s good at-

-The birds start chattering up above in a quiet frenzy as they watch the blood boil beneath their feet.

_ Lamb to the slaughter, lamb to the slaughter, poor girl, so young, so kind to us, poor little lamb, stupid, naive little lamb, to the slaughter, to the slaughter- _

\- The girl’s face softens, still staring absently at the water.  _ “You shouldn’t push others away like that,”  _ she murmurs, her voice so sincere the wolf’s anger halts in its tracks  _ “I’m clearly upsetting you, so I won’t ask why you do it, but...I don’t want you to isolate yourself. You’re so lovely, once I got to know you. Well,”  _ the girl pauses to laugh,  _ “you were lovely before I got to know you, too. That’s why I wasn’t scared.”  _ The girl finally turns from the water, looking at the wolf with fondness.

The wolf’s probably gaping like a dead fish, she knows, but she can’t help it. Leave it to this strange girl to completely de-escalate a conflict in under two seconds.  _ “You- You’re...lovely, too,”  _ She finally manages to choke out. 

The girl beams at her. _ “See, look how sweet you are. They’ll see it too, if you let them.” _

The wolf simply nods and turns away, trying desperately to process what just happened.

The birds go into a frenzy again.  _ Impossible,  _ they all agree,  _ impossible, impossible, impossible. _

ii.

The girl has red blood and the wolf has red hands. This is how the story goes.

The birds, with all their chattering, spread the news quickly. Soon every creature in the forest has heard of the red-cloaked girl who has somehow not only been left unharmed, but has managed to worm her way into the Danger’s affections. They hear of the fight, of how the Danger had been tamed by a few simple words. 

They all wonder, in hushed whispers, under the cover of wood and leaves, if the Danger has a weakness.

If so- what does this mean for them?

_ “Where do you come from?”  _ The wolf asks one evening. 

The girl startles at the sound of her companion’s voice. Usually, either she makes the conversation or they sit in mutual silence. And the question itself startles her a bit, too. Nobody’s ever asked her that here.  _ “Why do you ask?”  _ Her voice strangely small, and she hopes the wolf doesn’t notice.

_ “Just curious,”  _ the wolf says, shrugging as if it’s no big deal. The girl can see the stiffness in it, though.  _ “You told me once that you had nowhere else to be but here. But it’s not as if you sleep here, and you can’t bake your cookies in the woods.” _

_ “How do you know I don’t sleep and bake my cookies here?”  _ The girl laughs but it falls flat and she knows the wolf can tell. Damn those sharp eyes.  _ “It’s not as if you’re with me all the time. Maybe I’ve made a hammock from scratch and I sleep with the birds. Maybe I’ve built a functioning oven from sand.” _

Instead of going along with the joke like the girl expects, the wolf’s eyes spark with that strange something for a split second.  _ “I would know.” _

The girl damns her own eyes, too, because she can see the implications. She can see that the wolf wants her to know the control she holds over the forest, that every second she and any other creature is in here, they’re being carefully watched. But the wolf hasn’t made her eyes go sharp or hunched down in that way that’s meant to be menacing. She isn’t trying to be scary. She’s trying to reassure. Or promise something. Safety, maybe. 

The girl smiles and offers her a cookie.

The wolf still tracks the sound of snapping twigs, still tracks the small figure passing through. She still follows close behind. 

She knows why, now.

It is not for the hunt, for once. The girl is small, and fragile, yes, but worst of all she is lovable, and so the wolf cannot hurt her. In any way.

But the girl is still small and fragile and shows kindness to wolves. She is in danger here, all the time, and the wolf cannot stomach the thought.

The wolf feels weak. She should not have been so easily enamoured by a smile, she knows. She should have forced the girl to leave, or at the very least left her alone. 

But, no, she had to accept the companionship and the warmth and the cookies. She had to be weak. 

She finds she does not feel much regret for it.

She keeps watching. 

_ “Nobody out there matters.” _

The wolf is caught off guard by words like that coming from such an easygoing girl. Her tone isn’t joking- it’s carefully blank, trying very hard to keep the sadness out of it. The wolf feels a lump in her throat.  _ “What do you mean by that?” _

_ “You asked why I come here. Why I don’t stay outside, where it’s safe.”  _ The girl pauses, her eyes terrifyingly distant. The wolf has never seen her like this before.  _ “I don’t care about safety. I want to talk, and laugh, and play! And nobody out there will. They don’t- they don’t matter.” _

The wolf takes the girl’s hand. Despite her hands being freezing cold and her nails being sharp as claws, the girl clutches at the wolf’s hand like a lifeline. The image of two stick figures holding hands flashes across the wolf’s mind. 

_ “My grandma lives near here. She took me in when my parents tossed me out, taught me how to cook.”  _ Despite the tears pooling in her eyes, the girl smiles.  _ “I dishonor her memory by saying that, though. You’ve had my cookies. Don’t want you to associate my grandma with my complete lack of talent.” _

_ “I like your cookies. You get better every day, anyways.” _

The girl laughs.  _ “You would say that.” _

They fall silent, the girl refusing to loosen her grip on the wolf’s hand. Finally, as the last of the sunlight slips beneath the horizon, she speaks up again.  _ “Grandma died last summer.” _

_ “Last summer… when you first came here?” _

The girl takes in a shaky breath, nodding.  _ “I heard stories that the woods were dangerous. Nobody mattered.” _

The weight in the wolf’s chest becomes unbearable. Not her. Not her. 

Unable to think of what to say, the wolf simply gathers the girl up in her arms and holds her, rocking back and forth to try to calm her. She has seen mothers do it to infants, but she has no idea if it is applicable now. She hopes so. The girl’s crying makes her sick, and not just because she’s ruining the wolf’s prized furs. 

Birds chirp overhead, barely audible over the girl’s stifled sobs. 

The sky has been dark for hours by the time the girl calms down. When the wolf goes to check on her, she finds the girl curled up, nuzzled into the wolf’s fur cloak. Fast asleep. 

The wolf’s chest hurts. Heartache, she thinks. This must be heartache. 

She doesn’t want to wake the girl. She seems to be under a lot of stress, and the wolf knows that sleep is good for those sorts of things. If she wakes her up, she might have another crying fit or something. The wolf really does not want that. 

So she gathers the girl up, careful not to jostle her, and slowly makes her way to her den. Every snapping twig, bird song, and whistling of the wind makes her want to curse out god. How dare they try to sabotage the girl’s sleep when she needs it so badly. She resolves to clear the forest floor of all twigs and branches so this can be avoided next time. 

She doesn’t realize until later that not only would she be making hunting difficult for herself, she had also assumed there would be a next time. As she busies herself with covering the girl in warm furs and starting a fire, she finds that she doesn’t quite care. 

When the girl wakes up and finds herself alone in a strange place, she doesn’t feel as scared as she probably should be. Then again, the furs all around her don’t exactly leave much room for overthinking where she is.

Even though the wolf isn’t here, the girl can see the sparks of a fire next to her and notices that the opening is covered with a heavy fur to keep the cold air out. The girl smiles to herself, her heart warm, and settles back down to wait for the wolf.

The wolf walks through the door with a rabbit for them to eat. Its blood has been washed away in the river so as to not upset the girl too much. 

The girl notices, and appreciates the effort, and they eat together happily. 

It is an unspoken thing between them; they’re both lonely, but they have each other.

The girl leaves the woods only once more- to grab her things. After that, the wolf’s den is her home. They become painfully domestic. The wolf hunts, and the girl learns how to make cookies over the fire. The girl makes drawings of two smiling stick figures anywhere she can, and the wolf teases her for it. 

They are happy.

Birds cry overhead.

_ “Have you ever thought of a pet duck?” _

_ “I don’t feel the need to respond to that.” _

_ “Oh come now, look at their little faces! How can you spend time with them and not want to take them home?” _

_ “It’s called common sense.” _

_ “Don’t be mean.” _

_ “I’m not! Don’t pout at me, I have to be the voice of reason because you’re not going to be. Ducks are not pets.” _

_ “They could be. You haven’t even tried.” _

_ “And I’m never going to.” _

The girl pouts more dramatically this time, making a show of turning her back on the wolf to feed the ducks some more corn. She can’t be more endearing if she tried, the wolf thinks. 

_ “Look at them,”  _ The girl tries again. The wolf rolls her eyes. Well, at least there is one thing about her that isn’t endearing.  _ “Their big ol’ eyes. Begging for love.” _

_ “They’re begging for food. You have a bruise on your finger from when one tried to bite you to get the corn you were holding.” _

_ “Beggars or not, I bet they love me more than you do. They get so happy when they see me.” _

A beat passes before both of them freeze up- the girl in embarrassment, the wolf in shock. This could be a very awkward moment, and it would be if the wolf didn’t suffer from overconfidence and lack of impulse control. 

_ “Doubtful,”  _ The wolf scoffs.  _ “I am impossible to beat. I do not lose.” _

The girl’s entire body slumps in relief, and she lets out a surprised snort of laughter.  _ “I’m sorry, I can’t believe I forgot. Forgive me.” _

The wolf can’t help smiling. Her eyes shine, but instead of sharpness it’s warmth.  _ “You are forgiven.” _

The birds’ chirping becomes agitated.

_ “She’s sleeping in its den! Can you believe it? Sleeping in the home of the most dangerous creature here! And without a single scratch!” _

_ “I saw them together yesterday. The Danger  _ smiled  _ at that girl. They were  _ laughing  _ together. It’s the most bizarre and unexplainable thing I’ve ever seen.” _

_ “Don’t be ridiculous, nothing’s unexplainable. It’s unexpected, sure, but it still happened. The Danger  _ cares  _ about someone.” _

_ “Now you’re being ridiculous.” _

_ “I am not! It cares about her!” _

_ “The Danger does not have weaknesses.” _

_ “The Danger  _ did  _ not have weaknesses.” _

_ “I really think you should consider having a pet duck.” _

The wolf can’t even be bothered to roll her eyes. She’s too busy cooking their dinner to entertain the girl.  _ “For the last time, they’re not pets. They’re food at best.” _

The girl gasps, her face the picture of horror.  _ “Take that back!” _

_ “I will not, because I am right.” _

_ “You are absolutely not. Ducks are precious. They’re adorable, and they can swim-” _

_ “Oh, I didn’t realize being able to swim was what made a good pet.” _

The girl makes big doe-eyes at her, and the wolf forces herself not to look. It’s ridiculous how weak she’s become, but she can’t help it. 

_ “Listen,”  _ the wolf sighs,  _ “if you love ducks so much, why don’t you go live with them? Just bring a lifetime supply of corn and they’ll be happy to have you.” _

The air in the room shifts immediately, and the wolf realizes what’s coming, tenses up before the girl even finishes saying  _ “I love you more.” _

They stay that way for a very long time. In silence. The wolf doesn’t know what to do, what to say. Her chest is alight, and it’s a good feeling, and she wants to share that with the girl, let her feel it too; but her brain is screaming at her that she is very close to the edge of a cliff, and she needs to stay still or she’ll fall.

Their dinner burns.

_ “It’s ok,”  _ The girl murmurs, her eyes sad and adoring.  _ “I already know.” _

iii.

The girl has red veins and the wolf has a red heart. This is how the story goes.

The girl hums and tilts her head to the side, examining her new masterpiece. After a few minutes of thoughtful consideration, she nods in satisfaction. 

When the wolf comes home, she is greeted much more enthusiastically than usual. The girl is always more energetic than necessary, but right now her eyes are practically ablaze. 

_ “Alright,”  _ the wolf says, justified wariness in her voice,  _ “what have you done now? Another drawing?”  _ The girl nods.  _ “Of us?”  _ The girl nods again and breaks into a grin. 

Despite herself, the wolf smiles fondly.  _ “Well, lead me to it then.” _

The girl, as expected, runs to her drawing, leaving the wolf to catch up with her; but, abruptly, the girl freezes and the wolf nearly trips trying to stop herself from crashing into her. 

_ “My drawing,”  _ The girl barely whispers, sounding absolutely heartbroken.  _ “It ruined my drawing.” _

Startled by the girl’s dejection, the wolf quickly turns her around and pulls her to her chest. The girl isn’t quite crying, but the wolf has figured out over the past few months that the wolf’s fur cloak helps her calm down; and if the wolf can prevent a crying fit, she will. So messy.

_ “It’s alright,”  _ She murmurs into the girl’s hair, rocking side to side.  _ “I’m sure it was lovely.” _

The wolf leads the girl back home. If she takes her time pulling the furs over the girl and petting her hair until she falls asleep, nobody else is around to prove it. 

She goes out for a quick patrol and finds herself in the clearing where the girl froze. 

If the wolf feels a pain in her chest when she sees two stick figures smiling with a heart between them, cut across by bird tracks- well, nobody’s around to prove that either. 

Burning cookies makes the whole den smell bad for hours. The girl considers just making the dough and not even bothering trying to bake it. She clearly doesn’t have the knack for it the way Gra-

No. The girl gathers up the evidence of her failure and makes quick work of finding a place in the woods where she knows the birds go to look for food. It’s not as if the birds will complain. 

Evidence of her failure successfully hidden away, the girl looks around for something to do. She’s in a quiet part of the woods, far away from the den and the lake; the other animals of the forest tend to stay clear of those areas, so they come here instead. Birdsong drifts through the air like a breeze and the girl smiles, remembering her first day here. Before the birds grew afraid of her. She stops smiling.

Now that she’s not focused on cleaning up the burnt cookies, the girl feels the freezing winter air cuddling up to her like a blanket of needles. Eyes stinging with tears, she wraps her arms around herself and tries to figure out which way she came from. Eventually she just picks a direction and starts walking, hoping she’ll be home soon.

The wolf comes home early, disappointed to find their home empty. It’s not unusual for the girl to wander around or venture off to the lake to feed the ducks. The wolf will just have to go out and find the bright red cloak amongst the trees to call her back for dinner. 

Except the wolf spots that bright red cloak out of the corner of her eye, still draped over the side of a chair. The frigid wind from outside is still pushing its way inside, curling around her legs, around her stomach. It’s the middle of winter. The girl wouldn’t have gone outside without her cloak. 

Worry seizes her. Not her. Not her. 

She rushes out the door in a blur of darkness with a flash of red cloth.

_ “Red, darling, can you hear me?” _

The girl freezes midstep. No. It’s not her. It can’t be her. Images flash through her head- smiling eyes, burning her fingers on the baking tray, laughter, sickness, dying-

She jerks her head as if to shake the thoughts out of her brain. She’s ok. It’s not her. The wolf taught her how to get through this, just breathe, that’s good, keep breathing-

_ “Red, sweetheart? I don’t know where I am. Please, please answer me. Please help me, darling.” _

Her breaths stutter. She shuts her eyes and scrunches up her face like she’s in pain.

_ “Please, sweetheart, I’m so confused and scared. I’ve never been in these woods before, I don’t know where I am.” _

Woods? The girl’s eyes fly open. Grandma never mentioned the woods before.

_ “Red? Can you hear me? Red?” _

_ “I-I can hear you!”  _ The girl’s voice trembles and cracks as she calls out. 

_ “Red! Oh, I knew you would be here, come to help your old grandmother. You’ve spent so much time here, you must know these woods well by now, yes?” _

_ “Ye..yes. I do.” _

_ “Won’t you come help your old Grandma, then? I’m lost, and we haven’t seen each other in such a terribly long time. Won’t you just follow my voice?” _

The girl swallows, choking back her tears.  _ “Ok, Grandma. I...I’m coming.” _

And so the voice calls out and the girl follows it, blinded by her hope and her tears.

The wolf checks all of the girl’s usual spots, to no avail. Her claws are holding the red cloak so tightly they’re probably tearing through the fabric, but she’s too panicked to care. 

She’s supposed to know everything, see everything, hear everything. How could the girl just vanish under her supervision? How could she have allowed this to happen?

With a growl, the wolf bares her teeth and stalks off to the side of the forest she hasn’t bothered to go to for awhile, the cloak following her like a loyal little bloodtrail. Usually the birds know better than to make noise in her presence but the wolf notices with mounting fury that they have the audacity to be singing mockingly all around her as she storms through. She’ll rip them to shreds, she thinks, just as soon as she finds the girl and guides her away from the massacre. Always so gentle and kind. The wolf won’t let her see bloodshed. 

Bloodshed. Blood, red on white, fresh-

No, no, no. Not her. Not her.

Her claws break through the red fabric and start digging into her own palm, but her blood stains aren’t the concern right now because there are fresh ones glistening on snow and the girl is still missing. Heartache flares up again in her chest, except she’s not sure this is right because this feels more like incineration than an ache.

Follow the girl, keep her safe, wasn’t that her only job? Follow, track, protect. So fragile, so small- anything could have happened. Follow, track, except she’s following a trail of the girl’s blood which means she’s already failed. It feels like hunting and the thought makes the wolf sick.

_ “Red, why are you crying? Aren’t you happy to see me?”  _

A distinctly inhuman voice not too far away, just as mocking as the birdsong still pressing down all around her, and when the wolf perks her ears she can make out the sound she’s tried to keep muffled in fur coats. Looking down, it’s exactly where the blood leads. 

It’s dark, and the girl has never been good with the dark. She can face sharp teeth and sad eyes, but darkness strips her of her usefulness. Grandma used to hold her hand and remind her that things didn’t disappear just because she couldn’t see them anymore, but now her Grandma’s voice is a venomous melody in her ear that she can’t escape. She just wants to go home, but it’s dark and there’s no way to find it now. 

_ “Aren’t you happy? Aren’t you happy?” _

Mocking her, mocking her memory. The girl wails because there’s nothing else to do. The cold seeps into her from the breeze and the snow she’s collapsed into and she’s sure she’ll die here, alone and afraid because she finally has something to lose again. 

_ “Darling Red, have you really grown so rude? Come give Grandma a kiss.” _

Grandma’s gone and she’s a fool, she knows, but it’s still the voice that chided her for staying outside too late and it makes her want to see again if only so she can put the face to the voice one last time without there being despair spelled out in those old, gray eyes. But she can’t. It’s dark. 

The wind rushes around her strangely, like something’s moving and contorting the breeze so the cruel voice encompasses her entirely. Her body’s gone numb. She’s glad the cold has at least stopped hurting, though she’s sure this voice once told her that wasn’t a good sign. Maybe not. It’s getting hard to remember. 

_ “Red, Red, Red, ungrateful child, burden, finally-” _

Screaming. She’s never heard Grandma scream, and she wishes it scared her but she feels an odd relief because this is the sound she’s heard when her wolf hunts, pushing her away from the mess but never far enough away to protect her from the shrieks. She wishes it scared her, if not the screams then that her wolf has been caught here in this dark place too. All she feels is love. 

And then a scrap of cloth she’s guessing was once her cloak is draped over her shoulders, followed quickly by several thick furs, followed by familiar arms that wrap around her tight enough to make her forget what cold ever was. The hands clinging to her are undeniably safe despite being soaked in what the girl is sure is blood. She wishes it scared her, but her wolf never could even when she used to try. 

_ “Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry,”  _ her wolf whispers into her hair, voice rough with an anguish the girl never wished to hear and wants to stop immediately.

_ “What are you apologizing for? You’re here, you’re saving me.” _

_ “You almost died, you almost  _ died _ -” _

_ “But I didn’t, because of you.” _

_ “No,  _ this  _ is because of me. I knew, I  _ knew  _ you were too good, too breakable, and now you’ve broken because of me-” _

_ “Broken?”  _ The girl pushes away to frown at her wolf, but she notices the way the arms around her twitch once her face is visible so she reluctantly hides in the furs again.  _ “Not broken. Not broken. You saved me.” _

_ “Your  _ eyes _ , they’re-” _

_ “I know.” _

_ “Your blood is staining both our coats!” _

_ “Ah, sorry. My bad.” _

It manages to startle a laugh out of her wolf, and though it’s a weak and devastated sort of laugh, the girl still smiles and counts it as a victory. They’re not broken.

Despite everything, the girl simply took the shreds of her cloak and tore it up even more to wrap a piece around her eyes with a knowing smile in the wolf’s direction. Simply took a day to explore her new world with the same joy she caught for feeding the ducks. Simply carried on like her world wasn’t torn from her head. 

Despite everything, despite wanting to wallow in the memory of bloodstained teeth and hands, when the girl turned to her with a smile somehow brighter than the last, the wolf felt that maybe things would be okay.

The ducks still flock to her same as always, and it makes the girl even more endeared to them than before. Her wolf still frets, and the girl understands but there’s something relieving in feeding the ducks by the lakeside just as she always has. She can’t bake special treats for them anymore, but then again she never really could in the first place and apparently her wolf is a natural. Sprinkling some cookie crumbs on the ground to quiet their quacking, she remembers the frantic affection in her wolf’s voice when she presented her with an attempt at cake. She could almost picture her, a fur haphazardly thrown over a shoulder, wild hair somehow more untamed than she remembers it being. 

_ “I could try to take one home for you. Teach it how to be a pet.” _

The girl laughs, and she can practically feel her companion smile from where she sits close next to her.  _ “I thought ducks weren’t meant to be pets?” _

_ “Well, no. That’s why I’d have to teach it.”  _ Her wolf is joking, but only mostly, and the subtle offer makes the girl laugh again. 

_ “Thank you, but don’t you remember what I said?” _

_ “....They have big eyes?” _

_ “I love you more. They can’t really compare.” _

She remembers the night by the fire, how her wolf froze up. There’s no such hesitance or wariness present in the body wound around her right now.  _ “I do always win.” _

Smiling, she nudges her head under her wolf’s chin and moves closer. With both hands occupied by the fur they have wrapped around them both, the wolf is the one who reaches in and throws out the next handful.

A few feet behind them where the water can’t rise up to wash it away is a picture of two stick figures grinning. 

The girl had a red hood and the wolf had red-stained claws. But if there’s still red under the sand, it’s not visible.

**Author's Note:**

> my first time posting my stuff so i'd love any feedback haha  
> ty for any kudos or comments! <3


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